Chicano Poet

Thursday, June 17, 2010

A Poem By Jim Murdoch


Even when we forget,

our hands remember

everyone we have touched

and how. How we held them

then how we pushed them

away even as our

grasp tightened then how we

turned those selfsame hands

on ourselves in the end.

It might surprise you just

how much emptiness

our hands can hold.

from right hand pointing
thanks to Poethound for the link


At 12:37 AM, Blogger Jim Murdoch said...

Thanks for highlighting this one, Reyes. I just read it over again and it still pleases me. What's interesting is that the poem is a rewrite. I submitted it to a magazine and the editor pointed out how the piece could be misread and so I reworked it and in the process improved upon it. She still never took the revised piece mind but you can't keep a good poem down.

At 12:42 AM, Blogger RC said...

Yes,Jim,it's a great little poem.Depicting the hands in their greatness really,almost as if they were a separate organ,our heart,ears and eyes.


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